


Cheif Venturi

by Enx2103



Category: Life with Derek
Genre: CIA, Detective, F/M, FBI, Guns, Handcuffs, Scars, bad ass casey, bad ass derek, cheif, cop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 15:06:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15888489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enx2103/pseuds/Enx2103
Summary: Detective Mcdonald gets called into the office where she finds Chief Venturi.





	Cheif Venturi

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own LwD.  
> AN: Please note: This is a repost of my story "A Snap Shot" Ch. 303 on Fanfiction.net

 

When Casey woke up, she wasn't exactly sure what time it was due to her glorious black-out curtains she practically worshiped. She just knew her phone was ringing and that only meant one thing. She was being called into work.

"Detective McDonald, we got him. He's being held until you get here to interrogate him. We're just waiting on you." The voice on the line explained.

"I'll be there soon," she replied while trying her best to sound awake and alert.

She knew it must be early. Clearly too early because her alarm was set for 8am and it hadn't gone off yet. Thankfully she had gotten enough sleep the night before; she had gotten home at a reasonable time for once.

Her eyes finally adjusted to the darkness around her before she turned over towards her bedside table. Past her Glock 26 gun, she saw the blurry numbers on her alarm clock screen read 6:15am. Some would consider that the middle of the night still. And it very well might be. But Casey didn't mind too bad.

Who needed a 9-5pm job anyway? Casey wouldn't even know how to function with a normal work schedule. She had never really had one. Her teenage self would be applauded by how little sleep Casey got a night, but currently, 26 year old Casey loved every second of her job.

She swung her legs off her bed, bare feet padding along the floor, as she headed towards the bathroom to shower. Normally she should be running around trying to get her stuff together as fast as possible and get to the office…but not on this particular morning. Casey knew exactly why she was being called in. The convict being held at the office was a serial killer/rapist who had been wreaking havoc all over the city for the last couple of months. Her coworkers were working night and day to find and catch the guy. And that phone call only confirmed that they had got him.

She didn't need to rush anymore. He was sitting in a holding cell, handcuffed and probably beaten up from what she knew about her collages. Some were a little bit rougher than necessary...

Pushing the thoughts of work away, Casey stripped out of her oversized t-shirt that she'd worn to bed. It was a Rolling Stones graphic tee that Derek had left in her loft months ago. She didn't bother wearing anything underneath it.

She reached her shower and turned the water to its hottest setting. She took her time soaping up her body, washing her hair and preparing herself for the day. She knew it would be a long one. When she stepped out of the shower, a fluffy white towel was wrapped around her body as she padded her wet feet downstairs. She passed the living room, where the hardwood floors felt nice and warm under her feet, and went straight into the kitchen to start the coffeemaker.

Casey loved her loft. It was perfect. It was a two-floor place. Her bedroom was on the second floor with an en suite bathroom. The downstairs was wide and open with the living room blending into the open kitchen easily. It was modern, appliances all sleek and silver. She didn't decorate much, never having much time for company, but it was pretty and it followed a color scheme of coral and white. Her favorite part had to be the back wall that was entirely made of floor-to-ceiling windows.

The way the sun came into her home, illuminating the space, it was beautiful. A sight to see. It looked even better during sunset, when her blinds were completely open with every color of the sky being reflected against her stark white walls. It made her home feel like the inside of a rainbow.

Her bedroom was the darkest place in her apartment. The walls were painted a deep navy blue. It rarely saw the light of day. She kept her curtains pulled closed almost every day. She needed it. After pulling 20-hour shifts at the office and being released at noon, when the sun is at its absolute brightest, well…it's hard to sleep no matter how tired she was. So she kept the curtains pulled and her room dark for when she needed to sleep. After all, that's all she really used her bedroom for anyways.

After starting the coffeemaker she flicked her flat screen TV onto the news, letting the surround sound fill her in on the morning's news as she dressed herself. She had a tradition for dressing up on days where she had to interrogate criminals. She liked to dress up, to provoke them. And, aside from the fun that it provided her, she was still very much a feminist. She refused to surrender her fashion simply to "fit" the mold of what women in her field should look like. There is just so many ways you can dress up a pantsuit. It gets boring!

After getting dressed in a knee-high pencil skirt and blazer combo, she pulled her hair up and stuck a pen in it to hold it up and out of her face. She didn't bother with any makeup that morning. She had gotten enough sleep that the bags underneath her eyes weren't as noticeable.

Finally feeling ready, she filled her coffee mug up before stealing a muffin from her counter. She shut her TV off before heading out to the office.

* * *

Casey wasn't sure when it started, but it was known office-wide that whenever she stepped into Chief Venturi's office, everyone else was expected to leave…which was exactly what happened when she made it to the office by 7:45 that morning. She dumped her things onto her desk and made her way to his office, as she usually did. It was mostly to check in, but really just to annoy him. It put her in a good mood.

The open door gave her an invitation to step inside. She hardly ever knocked on his door since he didn't give her the same courtesy. So, she waltzed right in and found him busy.

She saw Detective Smith talking to Chief Venturi, who looked pretty damn horrible. It made Casey cringe and decide that maybe it was best not to bother him this particular morning.

"We'll continue this later Smith," Chief Venturi quickly spoke when he spotted Casey in his doorway.

"Yes Sir," he replied. He smiled at Casey on his way out before closing the door behind him.

"You look like shit, Boss," Casey smirked as she stepped closer to him.

He was sitting on the edge of his desk. He was still wearing most of his usual attire. But his blue button-down shirt was wrinkled beyond repair, pulled out of his pants instead of tucked inside his pants. His sleeves were bunched up at his elbows; the first four buttons of it open, exposing the white tank top he wore underneath it. His tie was nowhere in sight. Probably somewhere on his desk, Casey assumed.

And that was just his clothes. His eyes looked sunken and swollen like he hadn't slept for days. His hair was sticking up more than usual, and he wasn't wearing that usual pretentious smirk on his face when Casey showed up in his office.

"You look like you took your time this morning." He noted with no emotion in his dry voice. But he did give her a once over, which Casey knew was coming.

"Well, if you wanted me here faster, you could have made the call yourself," she countered, stepping toe to toe with his slumped form.

"Why are you wearing a skirt?" he asked, ignoring he previous comment, "You know you're-"

"Going to interrogate Woodson? Yeah, I know." She rolled her eyes. "Derek," she sighed reaching out to straighten out his collar. She knew she wasn't supposed to call him by his first name, like ever. But she did, and she got away with much more than that on a daily basis, so she didn't mind. "Go home," she commanded, "I actually cooked last night, there's leftovers. Don't stuff your face with fast food like I know you will. Jeez when was the last time you ate?" she asked like a concerned mother.

"I had to sandwich last night before we tracked him down," Derek frowned, eyes looking down.

"Yeah, go eat real food. Then sleep. When did you clock in?" she asked while pressing her thumb in the dark circle underneath his eyes.

"Yesterday." He replied, not flinching under her touch. But still he made no move to touch her.

"What _time_?" she asked, eyes flicking up at his.

"8am." He murmured under his breath.

Casey sighed, rubbing her face in frustration. "You've worked a 24-hour shift?" she asked, trying not to yell at him for his stupidity, but it was hard. He was running himself down. He was already one of the youngest chiefs in the history of their command, but pulling shifts like that was going to lead him into an early death.

"I couldn't leave Casey! We found him," he replied, straightening up as he got defensive.

"Yeah? Well he's here now. I'm going to go get us a confession, okay? And if you don't get your ass out of here _now_ , I'm going to drag you out myself." She threatened while stepping back into his personal space and leaning very close to his face. "Don't make me use my handcuffs in front of all your employees, Boss." She hissed, knowing that the idea of her cuffing him combined with her calling him Boss, which was always used with sarcasm, got to him.

"Fine," he huffed. Clearly, he had been too exhausted to put up a fight.

"Good," Casey smiled, straightening up. "If you're still here when I'm done with him, I am dragging you out." She promised before heading to the interrogation room that was prepped for her.

She was the best at what she did.

* * *

"So, Johnny," Casey smiled brightly after entering the interrogation room.

It was a very empty room that only held one small metal table with two chairs across from each other. The convict was usually handcuffed to one chair, and the interrogator was open to sit in the other, but Casey never worked like that. Not when she knew she had an audience. Sometimes detectives sat around in the adjacent room as they watched and listened through the one-way mirror.

She had a very bad feeling that this time Derek was in there watching her. Which was fine, she didn't mind. She knew she was good at what she did; her Boss' presences didn't worry her. What pissed her off was that he needed rest, and he hadn't followed her orders. She was going to kill him for that later. But she had work to do.

"It's Jon," the repulsing 37-year old man hissed, his lip snaring in her direction.

And then he did what Casey knew he was going to do…he racked his eyes down Casey's body like an animal. A murderous glare sparked in his eye, a creepy smile pulled across his mouth.

That was exactly why she dressed the way she did. She could always use her body to manipulate her convicts. They were so focused on her body (and that fact that she was a _dainty woman_ ) that they didn't realize what they were saying until seconds after they were spilling their guts.

"Oh, I know. I read your file." Casey told him, throwing his file on the table, out of his reach. She walked closer to the convict and leaned her ass against the metal table before crossing her arms over her chest. She eyed the convict. "So, what did you do now big boy?" she asked, licking her lips slowly, hypnotizing the convict.  
  
And just like that he was talking, telling her everything she needed to hear to lock him up behind bars for life. Sure, he'd slip up every once in a while due to the fact that he was getting distracted by her. Casey didn't even register the comments he made about her body.

"You know, you look like my type" he grinned at her. " I could have you right on this table," he hissed.

Casey didn't bat an eye, she had heard far worse; criminals telling her exactly what they wanted to do before they were to rape her. So yeah, this guy had nothing on the real fucked up criminals.

But someone, whoever was in the back room watching the exchange, seemed to not like what the convict was saying.

Casey's highly trained ears heard the familiar sound of something slamming against the one way mirror. Her eyes flicker up at it, not being able to see a thing, but she knew Derek was back there. She gave him her best glare before getting back to her job.

"You probably shouldn't say things like that," Casey warned the man, stepping away from the table before she started circling the room.

"And why is that? Are you going to do something about it?" He laughed, doubting Casey could defend herself.

And the thing is…Casey could. On her body in that very moment, she had about 2 different weapons:  the gun strapped on the inside of her thigh, and a switchblade strapped to her ankle, hidden under by the cute black booties she had worn. As if she needed a weapon, anyway. She knew exactly 100 ways to kill a man with her bare hands. But she didn't want to ruin the illusion the poor guy had of her.

"No, but because my boss has been watching the entire time, and he doesn't like it when guys talk about me like that," she smiled innocently.

"Oh, so you're fucking your boss, huh?" the convict laughed, shaking his head.

Casey pressed her palms against her side of the table, leaning forward so his eyes would fall to her covered chest. "Oh yeah," she hissed, trying her best to sound sexy, "Big time. He had me down on this very table two days ago" She supplied.

It was a lie, but Derek was watching, and he was supposed to go home, so yeah she was fucking with him. "Now, you can think about that image _all day long_." She shrugged, knowing she was torturing the man in a completely different way than what he expected.

He groaned, throwing his head back, pulling at his handcuffs behind his back.

Casey laughed, taking his file off the table and walked straight out of the room, not giving him a parting glance.

* * *

After discussing the confession with her colleagues, Casey went to find Derek. She found him in his office, behind his desk, staring blankly at his computer.

Casey took a deep breath before stepping inside his office. She closed the door behind her, as usual. She didn't like anyone seeing their not-work-appropriate exchanges. She walked around his desk before she leaned in front of his view of the computer.

He didn't say a word; he simply looked up at her with the same drained, dull eyes. But this time he looked angry.

Casey's eyes flicked down to see the knuckles on his right hand were swollen. He had punched the glass while she was interrogating the convict.

"What did I tell you?" Casey asked, sounding tired of him already.

Derek ignored her question. "Is that why you wear that stuff?" he asked as he pointed at her outfit accusingly.

"A hot detective strolling into the interrogation room, come on, that's straight out of a wet dream. I got him to confess in half the time you could with your intimidating gles and yelling!" She argued.

"How can you…"

Casey cut him off. "He didn't touch me. He _can't_ touch me. He's handcuffed Derek." She reminded him.

"But-"

Casey shook her head, cutting him off again. "But nothing. I get it. You can pull the whole overprotective thing anytime. You know I love that. It's like you're my very own Ivanhoe! But right now... you need to sleep, Der." She insisted.

"I know I will. I just-"

And before he knew it there was a pair of silver handcuffs on his wrist. He looked up at her, open mouth, shaking his head.

Casey grinned, all shiny teeth. "You're under arrest." She sung, sounding very smug about it.

"For what?" he played along.

"Not following a detective's orders?" she asked with a shrug, "I told you I was going to drag you out of here myself if you didn't leave. So, let's go." She smiled while pulling away from his desk. "Or do I have to lead the way as well." She asked laughing.

"Casey," he spoke her name in a warning tone. He got up from his desk and walked over to her. "Get these off. I am not walking around the office like this." He warned her while offering his cuffed wrists to her.

Casey rolled her eyes, "Fine, I'll take them off." She quickly reached out and unlocked the cuffs. She removed them from his wrist and dropped them into her purse for later. "But I can't promise that I'll keep them off," she teased. "Let's go," she repeated before opening the door to his office and flicking the light off.

Derek followed close behind.

* * *

When they arrived at Casey's loft, Derek went straight to the bathroom for a much needed shower.

Casey, on the other hand, went straight to the kitchen to heat up some real food for him. He must be hitting the gym pretty hard because with all the junk food he eats, she's surprised how he's managed to keep his body fit.

Later he appeared at the counter that divided the kitchen and the living room. He was in just his boxers with a towel hanging around his neck, catching the water droplets falling from his hair.

"Better?" she asked while trying to keep the ' _I told you so_ ', out of her voice.

He took a bite of the homemade food and groaned. Casey took that as a yes.

She followed him into her bedroom when he finished eating. She wanted to make sure he actually got some rest.

He threw the towel into her bathroom before falling onto his side of the bed. Because he had his own side of the bed. Not really, he wasn't over that often (okay, maybe he was) but he knew that Casey preferred the left hand side, making the right side his.

He sat on the bed, not completely getting into it yet. He stared at Casey expectantly.

"Come here," he beckoned her to the space in front of him.

"What?" she asked while still sounding mad at him.

For the first time that day he brought his hands to her body. In the privacy of her dark bedroom he felt like he was allowed to do so. He gripped her hips, running his hands over her clothed body gently. "I'm sorry," he whispered while staring at her body. "I just don't like it when they say that shit about you," he confessed. "You're just as good as any of my men. Hell, you're better than them. You're my best detective and they should fucking respect you!" he cursed, looking up at her with his eyes darker than before.

Casey recognized that look easily.

She sighed and wrapped her hands around his neck, her fingers eased into his wet hair. "I know." She replied.  
"I know," she repeated as she bowed her head against his.

One of his hands reached out to cup her cheek and he leaned in to press an innocent kiss against her mouth.

Although she appreciated the gesture, she pulled away almost instantly. "Go to sleep," she told him as she stepped away from him to minimize the temptation for the both of them. "I'll be home before you wake up," she promised while knowing that when he fell asleep, there was no moving him.

He watched her, with a half-smile. "Here I thought you were gonna handcuff me to the bed," he supplied as he slipped under the covers with a soft chuckle.

"That's only fun when I'm around to see you struggle." She teased before closing the door behind her.

Even Derek loved her black-out curtains.

* * *

When Casey got back home, she found everything the way she left it. Derek didn't look like he had moved an inch. She chuckled to herself as she undressed and slipped on the same shirt she had taken off that morning. After putting her gun on her bedside table, she slipped into bed next to him.

His back was towards her with his tattoo on display. The thick black ink read "Honor" that was written in script around the bullet wound he had from a few years back.

Casey couldn't resist pressing her lips against the skin, remembering how the blood poured out of Derek after being shot, and how terrified she had been that she was actually going to lose him that time. But luckily the shooter's aim was off. He was aiming for Derek's heart, but they shot too high and it had hit Derek's shoulder. The bullet went straight through Derek's body, landing him in physical therapy for his left arm for a few months. But that was nothing compared to what could have happened.

Derek must have felt her, because he stirred, and turned over to face her. He wrapped a lazy arm around her center and pulled her closer to him.

Casey sighed, in the warmth and comfort of his body. She could wake him up. He slept most of the day, he wouldn't mind. But she had had a long day, and now she needed to get some sleep. And in Derek's arms, it never failed, she slept like a baby.

* * *

When Casey woke up on her own the following morning, there was nothing cute or romantic about it. She didn't wake up in Derek's arms. He hadn't woken up to make her breakfast as a 'thanks for taking care of me' gesture, which he should! But no, none of that. Casey was actually surprised to see that he was still there when she padded into her living room.

He must had found the drawer full of his clothes because he was wearing a pair of gray sweatpants as he lounged on the couch with his feet propped up against her glad-clean coffee table. He seemed to be watching early morning cartoons with a mug of what probably was coffee in one hand.

Casey smiled, admiring the sight. He looked young like that. Innocent. Like he hadn't seen everything they had seen. He looked like he belonged.

She made her way towards him, snuggling into his side. He didn't say a word, or even look at her much. The TV kept his attention, but one of his arms looped around her waist instantly, pushing her t-shirt up and letting his fingers brush against her bare thighs. He did this often, she wasn't surprised. Derek had a thing for Casey's scar. Her worst one being a thin line across the top of her thigh where a convict had cut her with a switch blade a few years back.

The cut wasn't too deep, only 4-inches long, but it required stitches. And although it was faded and old now, Casey was still very conscious about the scar. She tried her best to hide it whereas Derek never missed an opportunity to run his fingers over it.

They never spoke about why he did it. But the way his thumb brushed over the skin like it was dirt, trying to wash it away from her body, made her think he wanted to take it away, that he wished she wouldn't have gotten hurt. That he felt guilty because it had happened on his watch. But he couldn't stop it, he too was bleeding. It was the same night he had gotten shot.

But at the same time, Casey thinks Derek likes her scar. It reminds him she's not as fragile as others thought. That she can bend and not break, that she had earned her stripes working in the field for years before becoming a detective that worked on the inside now. The scar showed her strength.

Casey leaned against his chest, brushing her lips across all the exposed skin she could reach given their position. Neither said a word, but Casey felt Derek's hand drift to the inside of her thigh, fingertips brushing the soft skin slowly, teasing.

"Der," Casey purred, eyes fluttering closed. She had missed his touch.

"Hmm?" he hummed, sending vibrations up his chest.

Casey took a deep breath. All she smelled was Derek; the smell of his skin, and the warmth of his bare skin against hers. She closed her legs, trapping his hand between her legs.

He looked down at her confused. But before he could ask, she spoke.

"Move in." She said. No asking, it wasn't a suggestion…she was telling him.

She felt his entire body stiffen next to hers. He stopped breathing and moving, but his heart, which had quickened, continued to beat, rattling his body with each passing thump.

"Move in." She repeated, more aggressive this time.

She could give him reasons why. There were about a thousand reasons why he should. Like the fact that she took care of him more than he did himself. The fact that he was at her place more than his own. The fact that he loved her black-out curtains just as much as she did. The list went on and on. But she didn't want to explain it. She shouldn't have to.

"Derek," she called after a few seconds of silence.

He took a deep breath before pinning her down on the couch in a swift movement. He dropped his entire weight onto her body and kissed her with an open mouth kiss. He pressed himself impossibly close to her, literally taking the breath right out of her lungs, crushing her in the most perfect way.

Her hands reached out from between their bodies, and she pulled on his hair, pulling him away from her mouth to gasp for air. "Is that a yes?" she rushed with a smile spreading across her face as she tried to breath.

Derek's eyes darkened, annoyed by her interruption. He grunted, tucking his face into her neck, scraping his teeth against her skin as his hands trailed up her body, pushing his shirt up her torso.

"I'm going to take that as a yes," she groaned out, arching her body up to his.

"Mhmm," he mumbled against her skin as he dipped down to litter her stomach with kisses and bites that traveled down her body as if he was hungry for her. Which he was…it had been a while for the both of them. He dipped even lower, kissing the scar on her thigh just once before his fingers reached for the elastic of her lacey boy shorts when the phone rang.

Derek stilled his movements all together. His head fell onto Casey's stomach in defeat. They were used to getting interrupted all the time. But this was worse timing than usual.

Casey took a second to contain herself before answering the phone, which was on top of the coffee table within arm's reach. She didn't move from her spot underneath Derek.

"Yeah?" she asked, unprofessionally, but she didn't care this time.

"We need you in the office as soon as possible Detective McDonald." The voice said.

"I'll be there soon," she promised while trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

"Do you have any idea of the whereabouts of the Chief? He's not answering his phone." The voice explained.

The entire office knew that when you couldn't find Derek, Casey could. It was simply another reason why he should move in. Casey looked down at him, holding back a laugh.

"Yeah, I'll find him," she smiled before ending the call quickly.

"Worst timing ever." He grumbled against her bare skin, yet his tongue kept sneaking out to trace shapes on Casey's still bare chest.

"Get off," she groaned, pushing at his shoulder. She knew where things could lead if he didn't keep his tongue in his mouth.

Reluctantly Derek got off of her, allowing her to straighten up a bit. A frown tugged at his mouth.

"I gotta shower," she sighed, rubbing her temple as she got up from the couch. That was a lot of process with no coffee in her system.

When she realized Derek wasn't following behind her, she stopped and turned back towards him. "Are you coming?" she asked, confused.

His face lit up with a smirk forming on his lips. He was behind her in a heartbeat.


End file.
